


Boyfriend puǝᴉɹɟๅɹᴉꓨ

by rixsig-writes (rixsig)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, established relationship zensung, genderfluid!Zen that doesn't quite know that's what he is yet, happy pride month!, originally written for the mysme lgbt zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 07:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rixsig/pseuds/rixsig-writes
Summary: In which Zen navigates the minefield of gender, and Yoosung's (mostly) helping.





	Boyfriend puǝᴉɹɟๅɹᴉꓨ

Half of the time when Zen looks at his phone he has his pictures open, swiping through his gallery and admiring himself, so it’s no surprise to see him staring at it. What _is_ a surprise is the intent hunch, the way he’s holding it so close to his face. It seriously looks like he could burn a hole through the other side with the intensity of his eyes alone, teeth gnawing into his own lip in a way he always chides Yoosung for, saying ‘ahhhh, no no, that’s no good for your skin!’

Yoosung has to know what picture he’s looking at.

Zen doesn’t notice at all when Yoosung creeps closer, peering over his elbow. At first all Yoosung sees is a flash of red, the glare from the sun obscuring his view, but he tilts his head and scoots in just a tad, and...and then…

“Saeyoung’s maid outfit?!”

Zen jolts and nearly drops his phone. “Y-Yoosung!”

“Why are you looking at that? Why do you still _have_ it? Aren’t you always complaining about that photo?”

“That guy keeps sending it to me,” Zen grumbles, shoving his phone back away.

And sure, Yoosung knows that, but for some reason he’d been under the impression that Zen’s been deleting them this entire time. Not...not scrutinizing them with that complicated look on his face that maybe looks a little bit like admiration or longing or something and what if this entire time that he’s been dating Yoosung he’s been wistfully thinking about dating a girl or oh my _god_ what if he’d rather be dating Saeyoung—

“Yoosung?”

“Do you want me to wear a dress?” Yoosung blurts.

“Huh?!”

“I could do it! Maybe. If it’s just you. You’re not allowed to laugh at me though!”

“Wait, what, why would I—?!” Zen coughs, shakes his head vigorously, and then grasps onto Yoosung’s shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

Yoosung avoids his gaze. “...Do you like Saeyoung better than me?”

Zen looks like he’s just been backhanded, and Yoosung suddenly feels bad for even asking. Of course he doesn’t like Saeyoung better. Zen’s ridiculously devoted. It’s just that Yoosung’s always been a little insecure and it always gets worse when it comes to Zen because god, have you _seen_ him?

“Hey, babe, look at me.” Zen’s warm hands frame Yoosung’s face, his earnest eyes pinning him still. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with than you.”

And Yoosung believes him. But now he’s back at square one, with the nagging memory of Zen staring captivated at that photo and not a single clue as to why. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung ends up talking to Saeyoung about it. Sort of.

“Maybe I _should_ try wearing a dress.”

Yoosung hears an exaggeratedly thoughtful noise over the phone. “Well you know I have plenty of them~ You’d look cute.”

“But I want to be guy cute not girl cute,” Yoosung complains with a pout. He wants to be guy hot too, like Zen, but he’s trying to be realistic here.

“Then don’t wear one?”

“You’re not helpingggggggg,” Yoosung whines, flopping backwards onto his bed and ignoring Saeyoung’s protests. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m perfect already or something!”

Saeyoung just laughs at him, and then laughs harder when Yoosung threatens to hang up on him. “Hahaha, if you want more compliments go back to your boyfriend, you mushy gushy couple~”

“I don’t want to hear that from you when you and your girlfriend literally never stop flirting.” Yoosung grumbles. He wiggles onto his side with a huff. “I just want to know what’s wrong… Sometimes he never shuts up, but sometimes it’s like trying to pull teeth and he won’t even open his mouth…”

“Ahhhh, well you know he was on his own for a long time. Had to be the big, tough guy.” Saeyoung does a theatrical swooning noise. “He’s a sensitive soul, but there’s probably a few things he keeps close to the chest.”

“Talking from experience?”

The joking edge fades a bit from Saeyoung’s voice. “Yeah.”

“But...why _that_ picture though…?” Yoosung’s eyebrows furrow, perplexed. “If it’s not about you and it’s not about me, then—”

“It’s about him,” Saeyoung finishes, humming contemplatively. Yoosung can hear the click-clack of keys across the line. “You never watched any of his things until recently, right? So you probably never saw him in his earliest roles.”

“No,” Yoosung mumbles, hunching defensively. He’d avoided Zen’s musicals for years for a whole plethora of _very_ good reasons: from not wanting to inflate Zen’s ego, to avoiding making himself implode from jealousy, to knowing that if he saw Zen in his element and shining on stage that he’d well and truly fall past the point of no return, and—

Well that’s a moot point now.

“What do his musicals have to do with anything?”

“Wellllllll….”

A ping rings out on Yoosung’s phone, signalling a new email. Yoosung opens it and nearly chokes, eyes popping out of his head. “I-I-Is that…?!”

“Yes~! It~! Is~!”

Yoosung brings the phone so close to his face it nearly touches his nose. He looks a lot younger, he doesn’t have nearly the muscle mass he has now, and those _clothes_...but it’s definitely Zen. There’s no one else in the world with hair and eyes and skin like that.

“Zen got his start in the ‘biz from doing women’s roles.”

 

* * *

 

It isn’t hard to invite himself over to Zen’s place. It _is_ a little bit harder to get him to bring out the right DVDs.

“Huh?” Zen looks at the case in his hand, puzzled. “You wanted my early musicals, right? This is the very first one I had the lead role in.”

And that nostalgic pride on him as he talks about it is cute, it really is, but Yoosung can’t afford to waver now. He pouts. “I said your _earliest_ stuff. Like...the very first ones you were in that got recorded!”

It’s small, but Yoosung spies the little jolt in Zen’s shoulders. “Ah.” Zen scratches his head. “Did you do a little searching on the internet about me? That’s embarrassing, haha. They don’t even sell those old ones anymore.”

Yoosung knows. He’s checked. Saeyoung offered to buy him one, but the price tags on MEbay had so many zeroes on the end they made his head swim. It’ll be easier to corner Zen like this anyway. “You have copies though, right?”

It turns out Zen does, because of course he does, and it only takes a little more coaxing and whining and some big, big puppy-dog eyes for Yoosung to convince him to put one on. Yoosung immediately tugs Zen down to the couch the moment the disc is in, snuggles up next to him, and watches intently.

“...so when do you show up?”

“Yoosung, babe, we’re only halfway through the opening song.”

“Yeah, but…don’t you come in partway through? Or at the end of it?”

“I’m not the lead in this, remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

Yoosung knew that, but somehow it just seems wrong for Zen not to be in the limelight. He belongs there, vibrant and sparkling and larger than the stage itself. But a whole half hour passes with no Zen appearing on-screen, and Yoosung’s bored face must be hilarious because Zen won’t stop chuckling about it. Yoosung elbows him in the ribs, finally grinning when he yelps.

“Ha! Serves you riiiiiiii…iiii…” Yoosung’s jeer drops into silence halfway through as his mouth hangs wide open.

Tinkling chimes and airy violin float out the speakers as spotlights follow a figure walking down the steps of the set. The floor length dress is form-fitting and elegant, long gloves clinging to slim arms, an extravagantly glittering necklace framing a pale, perfect neck. A curtain of white hair falls over one shoulder, baring the other to the audience, and as Yoosung watches one expert finger twirls a lock around, a coy gesture meant to catch the eye. It works.

“Haha...wild, right?”

Yoosung shakes his head in an attempt to clear it up. That _doesn’t_ work. “Oh my god.”

The few grainy pictures Yoosung saw did not do this any justice. If Yoosung went back in time and saw this in person he would have passed out and died instantly. Did any of the audience survive this musical?

“Yoosung?”

“You’re _gorgeous_ ,” Yoosung breathes.

It’s not anything Zen doesn’t hear on a regular basis, from friends, fans, and strangers alike, but somehow this one time it seems to fluster him, a pretty red blooming on his cheeks. He laughs off-kilter for a second before his normal ego kicks back in with a trademark wink and broad smile. “Right~? Back when I was that young I didn’t have all this—” Zen flexes demonstratively, “—and I was so pretty people really thought I was a girl when I was in costume. Man...the guys really never let me live it down after they found out.”

The guys…? Oh, Zen’s old gang probably.

Zen keeps talking about this and that, the musical-nerd floodgates open now that the big reveal has passed, but Yoosung’s not paying any attention. The Zen on-screen is whirling around on a man’s arm, locked in a dance. He’s in heels too, Yoosung notices. Low ones so he doesn’t tower over the the lead, but they must be difficult to move in nonetheless. Zen still doesn’t miss a single step, not even back then.

“Hey! Are you ignoring me?” Zen leans into Yoosung’s space with a woebegone expression until Yoosung’s all pressed up against the couch arm. “You’re gonna make me jealous.”

“Of yourself?!” Yoosung laughs, shoving half-heartedly at Zen’s chest. “Come on.”

Later when Zen appears in a different scene, singing high and clear, Yoosung’s not watching the TV. He’s watching Zen’s face. There’s a sort of strong, sad, soft look on there. Sharp and bitter, warm and lovely. Hungry. Like nostalgia almost. He’d looked at the phone, at Saeyoung’s picture, the exact same way.

Like he’s jealous.

 

* * *

 

Saeyoung has a suspicious tone in his voice when Yoosung relays to him what he’s discovered after he gets back, and he only finds out why when Saeyoung demands Yoosung and Zen come over to his place for some ‘fun-fun buddy time’ that very weekend, at a time when Saeyoung _knows_ Yoosung doesn’t have class and doesn’t have any good excuse to say no.

...of course Yoosung’s way too curious to say no anyway.

They both show up at Saeyoung’s doorstep Saturday afternoon, Zen having given Yoosung a ride on his bike in the most insultingly slow and concerned way possible, and after a good fifteen minutes of cajoling at the camera they finally manage to get through the security. Saeran gives them the slightest upturn of his mouth as they stop briefly in the living room, and Yoosung tries not to think too hard about the amused glint in his eye as they wait for Saeyoung to appear.

Zen doesn’t seem to notice, smiling heartily back at Saeran and then peering around the place. “Hey, Saeyoung, you’re not gonna make us play hide-and-seek are you? You know I’ll be at a disadvantage with how eye-catching I am~”

A feminine titter floats down the hall in answer. “Oh, oh, has Zenny come to sweep me off my feet?!”

Saeyoung flounces out of the furthest room and twirls, the calf-length skirt furling out and glittering in the light. Yoosung can see the golden flash of earrings from between the long, red locks of his wig, the same one he wore for that infamous maid photo.

Saeyoung skips over to them and stops, hands clasped together as he bats his falsies at them. “I got all dressed up for you and everything!”

“No one asked you to!” Zen immediately scowls, pushing Saeyoung’s face away when it gets too close.

Saeyoung pouts and mimes wiping a tear away with a sniffle. “You’re not even going to tell me I’m pretty?”

Zen’s not so much as looking at him anymore, his gaze fixed at some random spot on the wall as he crosses his arms. “Cut it out, dude.”

But when Saeyoung’s attention turns to Yoosung, Yoosung notices Zen sneaking glances at Saeyoung out of the corner of his eye. Was that fake irritation then? Or is this more of that jealousy? Yoosung chews on his lip as he mulls it over, letting Saeyoung tug him along into that back room he came out of moments before, and Zen, despite his attitude, follows closely behind.

Yoosung isn’t quite sure what he’s expecting, but the outfits laid neatly out for them aren’t it.

He pauses in the doorway and feels Zen bump into his back. Together they stare at the scene. Two dresses, two pairs of heels, some sparkling jewelry, and Saeyoung, laying makeup brushes out in a row. The smaller, star-studded number, Yoosung realizes with grim acceptance, is probably his. And that red stunner has got to be Zen’s.

“Um,” Zen says, “are your girlfriend and Jaehee supposed to be here or something?”

“Silly Zenny-wenny!” Saeyoung takes the biggest makeup brush and lightly bops Zen on the nose with it. “This dress is in _your_ size!”

Zen recoils. “What?! No!”

“Oh yes~” Saeyoung sing-songs. He picks up Zen’s dress and spins with it, holding it up to Zen as if measuring the length of it against him when he comes to a stop. “Just pretend you’ll be going on stage!”

“ _Saeyoung_!”

Yoosung doesn’t know what kind of superpower Saeyoung uses to herd Zen into the bathroom, but somehow he manages it. Yoosung himself slowly changes in the bedroom, sighing as he tries to pull the dress on over his head.

“Aww, you’re not going to wear the undies I got you?”

Yoosung’s head finally pops out of the collar, painted with a scowl. “No way!”

“But those old things don’t match...what if a certain someone sees them~?”

“Hey! What do you think we’re going to be doing at your _house_?!”

Saeyoung dodges and skips away when Yoosung throws said matching underwear at him, cackling, then primly comes to a stop in front of the bathroom door. “Knock knock, Zenny. You need any help in there?”

Silence.

This time Saeyoung really does knock, brows pulling together. “Zen…?”

After a long pause the door cracks open. “There. I’m wearing it. Happy now?”

“No, no, no, don’t take it off yet!” Saeyoung lunges for the door handle, wedging a heeled foot in the door before it can close again. “Look, don’t you want to come out and see Yoosung all dressed up and pretty too~?”

Saeyoung uses Zen’s moment of hesitation to pry the door open another couple of inches, and Yoosung stares. Saeyoung has the uncanny ability to look like a girl when he really wants to, and Yoosung hates to say it but he’s small and baby-faced enough that he does too. Zen though, his body is unmistakably masculine. Broad shoulders and narrow hips, chiseled muscles, the shape of his jaw...and his posture right now is nothing like the easy, feminine confidence that the younger Zen had radiated, floating through dance steps in heels.

“Come onnnnn,” Saeyoung wheedles, “have fun! Let your hair down!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, dude, I don’t _want_ —!” Zen’s sentence chokes off like someone’s put a hand around his throat, his eyes flicking from Saeyoung to Yoosung and back, fully taking in their more petite forms and flowy dresses, and Yoosung watches paralyzed as he sees something in Zen quietly shrivel up and die. “I don’t want to.”

“Zen…” Yoosung immediately steps forward, but Zen’s already frowning at the floor, scrubbing a tense hand through the fringe of his hair.

“This really isn’t funny,” Zen mutters, and when Saeyoung lays a hand on his forearm he roughly shrugs it off and closes the door with a bang.

Saeyoung stands right outside it, his shoulders slumping. He slides the glasses off the bridge of his nose and rubs at it, suddenly looking ten years older, and when he looks back and meets Yoosung’s eyes he looks just as lost about this whole mess as Yoosung feels.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung tries to talk to Zen about it later, but Zen doesn’t linger when he drops Yoosung back off at his place and he won’t answer his text messages. In fact, he isn’t answering _anyone’s_ text messages. Desperate, Yoosung spends all day in the chatroom looking to ambush him, but Zen doesn’t ever show up there either. He’s gone completely AWOL.

Yoosung chews at his thumbnail. It’s not weird, right, to go check on him? Zen gave him a key to the apartment just a few weeks ago saying he could drop by ‘whenever he wants,’ but he’s only ever used it when his classes let out earlier than Zen gets back from rehearsals or photoshoots or the gym. Yoosung’s never just...shown up before.

_Bzz bzz._

He pounces on his phone and flips it open like a madman. It’s not Zen.

...fuck it. He’s going.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung jabs the key into the lock with all the finesse of someone who’s totally and completely self-assured and not at all nervous in the least, okay? And yeah, sure, maybe he turns it the wrong way on accident the first time—who even _uses_ old-fashioned locks anymore, he’ll have to enlist Saeyoung to help install a keypad and drag Zen into the 21st century sometime—but that doesn’t matter. He gets the door open eventually.

...just to reveal a dark and empty living room.

“Zen?” he calls, edging inside and flicking a light on. “Are you in the bathroom or something?”

There’s no answer. And it doesn’t sound like anybody’s moving around back there either. Yoosung takes a quick peek through the rooms just in case, but still doesn’t find Zen. It’s _really_ late for him not to be back yet. The guy’s a workaholic and honestly doesn’t have much of a social life outside of the RFA, so the only times he’s out in the evening are when he’s overdoing rehearsals or...or doing something _else_ incredibly stupid.

Yoosung’s about five seconds away from bursting into the chatroom and raising a ruckus when the door swings back open, startling him so bad he yelps. “Z-Zen?”

“Huh? Yoosung? Why…” Zen stares back at him with wide eyes, hand still on the doorknob. He’s a mess, wild-haired and sweat stained, shirt soaked through under his leather jacket, and it’s really unfair that Zen can look this good under this many layers of stress and grime.

Yoosung stands his ground, crossing his arms. “What have you been doing?” Not that it isn’t obvious, but Yoosung wants to watch Zen squirm.

“Um…” And yeah, there it is, Zen’s hand coming up to his hair as he starts to look abashed. “I was taking my bike for a little spin?”

“Yeah, you totally look like what happens when a person goes on a completely normal motorcycle ride.”

“Aha...yeah, I should probably be more careful. V would always tell me...but it was fine, I’m fine! See, I actually feel a lot better now. I’m just gonna go take a shower real quick and then I’ll be right back, okay babe?”

And Yoosung can see it, the way that Zen’s already brushing everything off. As if by wearing himself out on that dangerous, speed-breaking joyride he’s worn out all of his bad feelings too, and now he’s getting ready to pack them all away into a box, never to be looked at again.

Like Yoosung’s going to let that happen.

His hand latches onto Zen’s elbow before he can brush past him, and Zen stops short with a surprised little half-laugh. “Come on, what is it? You want a kiss?”

Yoosung latches onto his other arm too and yanks until they’re facing each other. For once in his life he hopes he looks like the stern kind of determined instead of just cute. “Zen.”

“H-Huh?” Zen looks caught off guard at least. “Are you upset…? I know, it’s a bad habit to fall back into, but—”

“It’s not the bike thing. I mean, no, don’t do that either, but. Argh!” Yoosung shakes his head and then grabs Zen’s face, pulling it down to his level. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Everyone’s been worried!”

“Ah...I haven’t looked at it in a couple days…”

“It’s because of what happened at Saeyoung’s place, right?”

Zen’s mouth snaps back shut, his jaw tensing under Yoosung’s grasp. Eventually, he sighs and pulls away. “It was just Saeyoung joking around like always. I got too hot-headed about it. I’ll call him up later and—”

Yoosung doesn’t let him get away that easily. “But _why_?” Zen blinks at him in surprise, and Yoosung takes the opportunity to close that small bit of distance. “He can take things a little too far and you get mad at him sometimes, but you didn’t just look mad. You looked hurt. I saw it.”

Zen doesn’t say anything for a long moment, eyes cast to the side, his posture defensive.

“Come on Zen, you hear me whine about everything all the time! Can’t you talk to me?” To Yoosung’s mortification he can feel his eyes start to sting with frustration, but he plows forward. “Why do you keep brushing me off like I’m your little brother even after we’ve been dating for months! It sucks! I just want you to rely on me too!” He can see Zen wavering almost like a physical thing, and he holds his ground, hoping he looks dependable enough.

One more tense second and then Zen folds like a house of cards, wrapping his arms around Yoosung and burying his face in his hair. The hold is strong, brittle. “Ha...you know I always get told I outshine any clothes that I’m in? I guess I should have known it wouldn’t work that way with those clothes anymore.”

“So,” Yoosung begins tentatively, arms coming up around Zen too, “you do like dresses? Is that why…?”

He can feel Zen’s half-shrug more than see it. “There’s no way I’m convincing anymore. No amount of stage magic can change that now. I knew it wouldn’t look right, but I still wanted to…” A pause, a breath. “I trained so hard for years to build up this kind of muscle, to look like a lead character actor, and I’m not ever gonna stop hitting the gym, but sometimes...you know…” Zen’s grip gets even tighter, his voice going strangely quiet, like he’s not sure if he wants to be heard or not. “Don’t you ever want to spend a day like a girl does?”

“Not...really?” Yoosung had been thinking that maybe Zen liked crossdressing too just like Saeyoung deep down, but this is sounding like something totally different. “Wait, do you mean you want to _be_ a girl?”

 

“No!” comes the immediate protest. Then later, somewhat embarrassed, “Not exactly. Not all the time, just. Some days I miss that feeling. That’s weird, right? Most of the time I only get annoyed when Saeyoung sends me those pictures, but then sometimes I feel really...”

“Jealous,” Yoosung finishes. He mulls it over. He still doesn’t quite get it. So it’s not about crossdressing, and it’s not exactly about wanting to be a girl. What else even is there? “So...uh. What does that mean?”

Zen huffs a sharp laugh. “Dude, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I can flip back and forth. I can act different all I want, but I can’t _be_ different. And it’s not like I don’t love myself anyway, right? And I wouldn’t give up where I’ve gotten for anything. So I don’t get why I’m…why I’m...”

Flip back and forth? _Ohhhhh_. “You want to be able to switch your avatar,” Yoosung realizes, “but, like. In real life.”

“...huh?”

“You always get more than one character slot in online games, like in LOLOL you can have up to five, so you switch to whichever one you want whenever you feel like it.” At Zen’s confused silence Yoosung clarifies, “Which means you can switch between playing as a girl or as a guy whenever you want.”

“Pffft, hahaha,” Zen poorly muffles a burst of laughter into Yoosung hair. “Like a videogame, huh? Yeah, that does sound pretty good actually.”

“Oh? Oh?” Yoosung pokes Zen’s side. “Does that mean I’ll finally get you to try playing it with me?!”

“I never said I wouldn’t! I just said you’d have to start hitting the gym with me first.”

“Euughghghgh…”

When Zen’s laughter trails off Yoosung pulls back just far enough away to see his face, and Zen looks back at him, uncertain, like he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. ‘The guys’ never let him live it down, Yoosung remembers him saying. And that was just because they found out about his stage roles, not because of this. Ugh, he needs to stop thinking about that. It’s making him angry.

“You can, um. You can be a girl around me.” Yoosung offers. “If you want.”

Zen’s face goes red and he looks off to the side. “But it’s still not gonna look right.”

“Zen, everything looks good on you.”

“But—”

“ _Everything._ ”

Zen’s eyebrows scrunch up, but Yoosung can still tell there’s a big part of him that’s pleased. “But you were staring at me different when we were at Saeyoung’s.”

“I was surprised! That didn’t mean you weren’t gorgeous.” And again, just like when they were watching that DVD, Zen blushes prettily at the compliment. Emboldened, Yoosung keeps going. “So what if it’s not like how a lot of other girls look. I’m short and cute and not buff at all, but I’m still a guy! So you can be a tall, ripped girl. W-Whenever you want to be, I mean.”

And maybe neither of them know exactly what this is or what it means yet, but in that moment Yoosung thinks that warm spark of happiness in Zen’s eyes will probably always be worth stepping off of the well-worn path for.

Besides, what’s better than having the most beautiful boyfriend _and_ girlfriend in the world?

 

* * *

 

Epilogue

 

It’s not a daring red dress, but the sweater Zen’s wearing is baring her shoulders in a way that makes Yoosung have to gulp before he accidentally chokes on his spit. Yoosung fumbles backwards for the front door and closes it behind him. She doesn’t seem to hear it, alternating between singing lines and sipping beer as she prods at something simmering in the pan.

“Hey, I was going to cook!” Yoosung complains, kicking his shoes off and slinging his bag into an empty chair.

“Yoosung!” Zen smiles, turning the heat off and moving the pan to another burner. “Haha, I got back early and got bored of sitting around. You can cook for me tomorrow.”

Yoosung comes up behind her and sets his hands just above her hips, peering around to look at the contents of the pan. His hands feel the softness of cashmere and the muscular solidness of her waist underneath. When he starts idly playing with the fabric she shoots him an amused look.

“Trying to distract me already?”

Yoosung giggles, fingers dipping mischievously lower. “I dunno. Is it working?”

She turns around in his arms and slowly starts walking him backwards until his knees hit the couch. He sits down with an ‘oof,’ and suddenly he has a heavy lapful of Zen. His heart pounds in his throat at her expression.

“I keep telling you, babe…” Zen says, pink lips spreading into a dangerous smile as her face draws close, “...even when I’m a girl I’m still a wolf~♥”


End file.
